


What Could Possibly Go Wrong Except for Literally Everything

by SixofOne



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Body Swap AU, Humor, I mean it's basically still canon compliant, M/M, OR IS IT, One-Sided Attraction, Rating May Change, Sandalphon being an absolute menace, slight AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2019-11-24 20:01:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18169424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SixofOne/pseuds/SixofOne
Summary: Lucifer was SUPPOSED to just make an acceptable back-up Primarch in case of emergencies, but then he went and gave it a NAME and free will and the ability to understand the mind-numbing existential horror of its own pointless existence, and now he was attached to the damn thing.But hey, what could go wrong, right?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what I'm doing but here we go again
> 
> I got inspired by this tweet: (https://twitter.com/makarakaja/status/1106839243010109440), but I'm going to be completely honest: it's going to take a little while to get there because I have literally no self control.

Lucilius stares down at the exam table in front of him, brows furrowed ever-so-slightly as he looks at the prone form of their newest archangel.

 

"Isn't he perfect?" Lucifer asks quietly next to him, and Lucilius looks up to find Lucifer gazing at him with a strange softness to his face that he can't ever remember seeing before.

 

Lucilius blinks and looks down again, expression going carefully blank as he takes in the messy brown hair and soft features. Small nose, full lips, long lashes... ugly brown wings. He hates them. Lucifer's wings are so PRETTY in comparison, why would he give this creature _brown wings?_ "It looks... different than I was expecting," he finally says after a long pause. "And isn't it a little small?"

 

"He's _perfect,_ " Lucifer insists again, and Lucilius looks up once more to find him smiling adoringly at his first (and only, after this: he clearly can't be trusted,) creation.

 

Lucilius sighs. "Lucifer, it's supposed to be your back-up plan in case something happens to you. I created _you_ to be perfect, yet this _thing_ looks nothing like you."

 

"I want him to be his own person," and then Lucifer laughs gently in a way that makes Lucilius' teeth hurt from wanting to clench them, "besides, there's already two of us with the same face. Don't you think three would be too many?"

 

Lucilius quietly clicks his tongue but doesn't respond immediately, staring down at the archangel's closed eyes as though he might be able to catch a glimpse of the creature's mind through his eyelids. _HE didn't think another one with their face would be too many... Lucifer was made to look exactly like him, and Lucilius was the perfect one, not this muddy mop-haired beast._ "Did you add a temporary blocker to this one, as we discussed?" he asks instead.

 

"No," Lucifer says, raising a hand when Lucilius' head snaps up and irritation furrows his brows once more, "I know he doesn't _need_ to be at full capacity unless something happens to me, but I want him to be able to learn things on his own. I want him to be able to grow." Lucifer's face softens and he looks down at his creation again, the gentle smile on his lips making Lucilius' insides twist with disgust as Lucifer carefully brushes the angel's wild brown hair off of his forehead. After a long pause, he quietly adds, "I'm going to teach him _everything,_ " and Lucilius feels uncharacteristically close to screaming.

 

He lets out an irritated grunt instead, chewing on the inside of his cheek in a rare display of open displeasure, then stands up straight with one last huff of breath. "Fine. But if it causes issues, _you_ are to take care of it. I'm not cleaning up after you if this thing turns out to be a problem."

 

"I understand," Lucifer says with a small nod. "But he won't."

 

\---

 

The little bastard is screaming again, its voice so shrill that Lucilius is shocked that the damned _windows_ haven't shattered yet.

 

" _I told you this would happen,_ " Lucilius shouts over the den of the archangel's sobs, and how the _fuck_ could something _so small_ be so _fucking loud_. " _I told you that you should have put a blocker on it. I TOLD you this was a mistake._ "

 

"He's just frightened," Lucifer says, somehow audible despite his voice remaining calm and gentle. He has the thrashing creature wrapped up carefully in his arms, not even wincing when an occasional elbow manages to get free and smack him in the face. _Serves him right._ "Waking up to a world such as this must be a lot to take in."

 

" _That's where the BLOCKER would have come in!_ " Lucilius shouts back, barely managing to resist stomping his foot as he squeezes his hands tighter against his ears. " _It's hard to be frightened when you aren't programmed to feel it!_ "

 

Lucifer just shakes his head, rocking the tiny menace in his arms until its cries lessen from ear-splitting screams to merely migraine-inducing wails. "But that's the whole point, my friend. This world _is_ frightening, sometimes. He has to learn to be brave even when he's frightened, or he'll never grow strong enough. We just need to be patient."

 

He doesn't roll his eyes, but he does come close, settling for a slight sneer of his upper lip as he stares balefully at the brutish whirlwind of limbs and feathers in Lucifer's arms. "Sometimes I think you behave too much like a mortal."

 

Lucifer doesn't respond, only wincing slightly as the brown-haired nightmare on colt legs chooses that moment to fling its head back, skull connecting against Lucifer's face hard enough to actually split his lip.

 

The sight of blood running down Lucifer's pale skin makes Lucilius almost irrationally angry because _how dare this useless GOBLIN make HIS creation bleed,_ but he swallows it down and spins on his heel, stalking out of the room with his hands still pressed to his ears.

 

He does slam the door behind him as he goes, but it does very little to drown out the sound of screaming.

 

\---

 

" _Stop squirming,_ " Lucilius hisses in irritation, trying to grab the vicious little beast that Lucifer had lovingly named 'Sandalphon' several weeks ago, and missing every time as it somehow manages to twist its body around like some horrible cross between both a cat and a snake. Lucilius isn't even sure that the thing can understand him yet — still in its infancy as it is — but it makes him feel better to try, somehow.

 

He does finally manage to snag an arm after what feels like eons, and Sandalphon _shrieks,_ twisting so hard to escape that Lucilius can barely believe it doesn't snap its own stupid arm off.

 

And Lucilius just doesn't get it. None of his own creations have ever fought him so hard and so viciously, but everything with Sandalphon is a constant, infuriating fucking battle.

 

_Lucifer should have put a blocker on it._

 

"Stop it. _Stop struggling._ I'm only trying to examine your wing strength, you horrid little brute."

 

Sandalphon adds kicking legs to the list of flailing body parts, and Lucilius attempts to use his body weight to pin Sandalphon's body down to the table under him. It does very little, the creature's body twisting and lashing in every direction as it continues shapelessly screaming, until finally one word suddenly forms in its mouth: " _Lucifer!_ " And then it just won't stop, screaming the name over and over again like a mortal infant who just learned how to say the word 'no.'

 

Even over the den of shouts, Lucilius can hear as the door bursts open and slam against the wall, and he doesn't have to look to know who it is.

 

"I think that was his first real word," Lucifer says, the tremble in his otherwise calm voice giving away the excitement he was clearly trying to control, "did you hear him? He's never spoken before."

 

"I _HATE_ him," Lucilius shouts in lieu of an answer, wrestling Sandalphon back against the table once more after getting thrown backwards several inches. "He's vicious and awful and irrational and an absolute danger to himself and others and I _HATE HIM._ "

 

Lucifer, damn him, let's out a fond sigh from somewhere in the vicinity of Lucilius' left shoulder. "He's _perfect._ "


	2. Chapter 2

All the other angels Azazel has ever seen are nearly blindingly bright and resplendent in all their shining golds and whites — the very image of quiet strength and infallible justice. But the creature cautiously peeking out from behind Lucifer's arm looks downright... _common_ in comparison, the color of dirt and dying leaves. Like a sparrow amongst swans.

 

He glances over to Olivia next to him, her back straight and chin high as she stands at attention, though he can see the way her own eyes keep glancing to the new archangel herself even as her expression betrays nothing.

 

"At ease, or... whatever," Lucilius says with a vague wave of his hand, sounding as bored yet indefinably terrifying as he always does. Azazel immediately slouches further than he already was in his lazy salute, though Olivia only lowers her arm and crosses them behind her back instead, otherwise remaining tall and motionless. "Honestly, I don't know why Belial bothers having you do that rubbish at all, it makes absolutely no difference."

 

Azazel tries not to visibly jerk in surprise when Lucifer begins to laugh, the Supreme Primarch and General Wet Blanket (or so Azazel had always assumed — just _look_ at him,) glancing over at his visual twin with humor in his eyes. "Without order, we would become little more than the beasts we are named after, wouldn't you agree? At least, Belial certainly seems to think so," he says, and Azazel really does gape a bit. Who would _dare_ to not only laugh at Lucilius, but even correct him? But the sky doesn't fall, nor does the ground split open under them, and Lucilius simply raises his eyes to the ceiling in apparent disinterest.

 

Next to him, he sees Olivia shift her weight uncomfortably. "You — ah — did send for us though, yes?" she tries carefully, and Lucifer's smile broadens, nodding his head.

 

"We have a new task for you," he says, gently pulling on the little sparrow's arm to try to bring him forward. The sparrow, in response, digs in his heels more like a mule than the delicate little bird that he appears to be, face absolutely mutinous as he leans so far back that Azazel is pretty sure he'd drop straight onto his skinny ass if Lucifer decided to let go of him. "We want you to look after Sandalphon. Teach him how we do things, and keep him out of trouble while he learns."

 

Taken by surprise, Azazel lets out an indignant squawk before he can stop himself, eyes snapping up to Lucifer. "What?! Why do we have to do it?!"

 

Azazel knows he's misstepped the moment the words are out of his mouth, and he flinches as Lucilius' gaze drops white-hot and furious onto him. " _Silence,_ " Lucilius hisses in a whisper, though it sounds somehow like a shout, and Azazel _silences_ even as Lucifer places his free hand placatingly on Lucilius' shoulder. Lucilius shrugs it off of him angrily, doing that furious little pouty thing with his mouth that sort of makes him look like an angry duck, but then again, he also doesn't crucify Azazel on the spot, so overall it seems like a win.

 

"You two are the closest to him in age. I think you would get along with him best," Lucifer says kindly, finally managing to drag Sandalphon forward enough to grasp him by the shoulders and push him the rest of the way.

 

Azazel squints his eyes at him.

 

The sparrow named 'Sandalphon' squints back.

 

"If the Supreme Primarch commands it," Olivia says after a pause, still sounding slightly unsure of the situation. "Is there anything in particular we should be teaching him?"

 

"Oh, anything. _Everything._ " Lucifer says with a smile like he's explaining the secrets of the universe, when really he's still just being obscenely fucking vague yet oddly awe-inspiring, as per usual.

 

Olivia looks to Lucilius next with a slightly helpless look on her face, but Lucilius just shrugs a shoulder lazily. "What Lucifer said, I guess." Then, after a moment, "and keep him _out_ of my lab."

 

\---

 

"Sandalphon, _stop._ We're gonna get in trouble!" Azazel hisses in a panicked whisper, trying to grab the other angel's wrist just as Sandalphon nimbly ducks behind another ominously glowing vat of viscous fluid and, of course, out of reach. The unrepentant little _brat._

 

He hears Sandalphon's breathless laugh somewhere ahead of him. "No we _won't-_ not if we don't get caught! And we won't get caught unless you keep lagging behind! Come _on,_ aren't you curious?"

 

" _No!_ I'm not, and Lucilius told you _not to, remember?!_ Every day? All day? For weeks now?" He takes a deep breath and holds it in terror before forcing himself out from behind one of the vats, stepping forward just in time to see a shiny head of wild brown hair go darting around another corner.

 

"Yeah, well, Lucifer also told you to teach me things, but so far all you've done is yell at me."

 

" _Because you never listen!_ " Azazel whispers loudly back, absolutely incensed.

 

And besides, that wasn't true at all. Olivia had taken to Sandalphon almost immediately, telling Sandalphon that he had beautiful hair and asking if he'd like her to braid it, and Sandalphon had shyly said 'sure,' as long as he could touch her wings, and that had been that. And okay, maybe Azazel took a _little_ longer to warm up to him, but really, it only took a couple days and a few scuffles before the two of them had become nearly inseparable as well. Azazel _liked_ Sandalphon, for the most part.

 

Just maybe not right now, particularly. Like, at all.

 

He takes another deep breath, steels himself, then propels himself forward, spinning around the corner that Sandalphon had gone down with enough speed to catch up to where the brown-haired angel was running past yet another row of vats with mysterious body parts in them. He snatches the back of Sandalphons loose white tunic as soon as he can reach him, fingers hooking in the hood to yank him back against Azazel's chest, and Sandalphon lets out an indignant yelp loud enough to send a surge of terrified adrenaline shooting through Azazel's blood.

 

"Shut up you tiny fool, _you're_ going to be the one to get us caught at this rate, not me. We need to leave!"

 

"Don't be such a _cockblock,_ Azazel!" Sandalphon hisses back angrily, twisting and kicking his legs in an attempt to break free, but Azazel just tightens his arms until the little bastard starts to wheeze even as Azazel gapes down at him in shock.

 

"A _what?!_ Who taught you that?!" He whisper-shouts loud enough that he might as well not be whispering at all, voice beginning to go hoarse.

 

Sandalphon, struggle temporarily forgotten, looks up at him with wide garnet eyes, eyelashes blinking with all the false sweetness he was afforded as a hellraiser with the literal face of an angel. "Belial said it means that you aren't any fun."

 

 _Oh. Of course._ Azazel rolls his eyes. "Yeah, well, Belial's a complete tool. Don't listen to what he says."

 

"He's a what?"

 

"Oh, never mind. Hey-" Azazel's head whips up as he hears a door close in the distance. " _Shut up,_ " he whispers in a panic, and Sandalphon starts to say, _"I didn't say anyth-!"_ before Azazel clamps his hand over his mouth and quickly shoves him behind another large vat, this one full of a partially dissected wing that makes Azazel feel a little queasy to look at.

 

He closes his eyes hard instead, sliding down with his back to the glass and clutching Sandalphon tight to his chest, hand still pressed against his mouth. Sandalphon wriggles a little, a muffled noise of protest escaping his throat, but Azazel grips him tighter and whispers, " _shh!_ " and for once Sandalphon goes tense, but still.

 

He can hear what sounds like two pairs of footsteps move through the lab, and Azazel recognizes the falsely tranquil timbre of Lucilius' voice even before he can make out what he's actually saying.

 

"I told you already, that isn't going to work. There's too many ways it could go wrong, and I'm not taking any chances with this."

 

There's a deep, rumbling laugh in response that can only be Belial, and Azazel holds his breath to try to hear more clearly.

 

"Okay, okay, I know. I didn't mean to rush you, Cilius."

 

A scoff, then a pause. "As if you could rush me, anyway." And then, a little quieter and almost petulant, "and don't call me that."

 

"Aw, come on, don't be like that," Belial chides softly like a parent trying to talk a small child out of throwing another one of their toys onto the floor, "I think Cilius is cute, don't you?"

 

The footsteps come to a sudden halt a handful of vats down, silence falling thick and uncomfortably long over the room before Cilius finally hisses, "you would be wise to watch that tongue around me, Belial," and Azazel shivers even without being the one the venom is directed at, but he hears Belial let out another fond laugh as though Lucilius had been whispering a silly love confession.

 

"Would I?" He drawls slowly, and Azazel can hear what sounds suspiciously like someone's back hitting the glass of one of the vats and rustling clothing before someone — _(Lucilius? Please gods of the stars AND the sky, don't let that be Lucilius —)_ lets out a high, quiet gasp. "Oh, _angel,_ are you sure?"

 

Azazel's grip slackens minimally in his horror, and that's all it takes for Sandalphon to seize his opportunity. The little monster begins struggling again in earnest, wriggling around violently even as Azazel tries to tighten his arms, and a bony elbow finds its way into his ribs hard enough to make Azazel gasp.

 

" _Ow! Knock it off!_

 

" _I'm HOT, let me go!_ "

 

" _Sandalphon — OOF! — hey, QUIT IT, I'm serious, quit hitting m- OW, STOP, you're gonna get us —_ "

 

A shadow looms over them and Azazel and Sandalphon both freeze as Belial's smirking face comes into view from around the vat. "Well, well, well, isn't this just _fascinating?_ " he says in a voice low with promise, and Azazel makes an indistinguishable sort of whining noise of terror in the back of his throat in response.

 

Even Sandalphon seems frozen in panic for several long moments. Then, with a sudden gasp, Sandalphon leaps to his feet and shouts, " _SCATTER!_ " before taking off like a bullet towards the other side of the lab, leaving Azazel behind to stare after him in a combination of both indignation and numb horror.

 

It doesn't work, obviously. Belial catches him almost immediately, throwing Sandalphon over his shoulder casually and clamping his legs harmlessly against his chest even as Sandalphon tries his best to squirm away. He throws Azazel over his other shoulder, too, seemingly just for good measure, despite the fact that he had gone completely boneless from the moment they had been caught, and lugs them back towards the entrance.

 

"I ought to use _both_ of you for spare parts," Lucilius is viciously snarling somewhere in the vicinity, and Azazel wails even as Sandalphon lets out a rasping scoff next to him.

 

"Calm down, he wouldn't use us for parts," Sandalphon says confidently, and Belial laughs in a way that makes ice go down Azazel's spine.

 

"Oh, _wouldn't he?_ "

 

Sandalphon lets out another croak that Azazel thinks is maybe supposed to be a derisive snort — or maybe, like, a chuckle? — and halfheartedly hits Belial's back with his fist. "Of course not. Lucifer wouldn't allow it."

 

"Well, you're certainly right about one thing," Belial says, grunting as one of Sandalphon's bony fists manages to connect with a sensitive part of his spine, "you aren't getting dismantled. At least not today. I have something better planned."

 

"What?" Azazel asks, voice barely above a whisper, and he hears Sandalphon groan as Belial adjusts him on his shoulder a little harder than probably necessary.

 

"You two are going to be helping me out for the next week. I think the _both_ of you could stand to go through a few hundred drills."

 

" _What?!_ " Azazel squawks, as Sandalphon shrieks, " _NO! Literally ANYTHING but that!_ " and begins struggling anew, fists beating and chest squirming uselessly.

 

"I _told you_ to _stay out of my lab,_ " is the last thing they hear from Lucilius as the door swings shut again, and Azazel swears he can feel his soul leave his body as he slumps further against Belial's shoulder and accepts his fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly there's something about the idea of Azazel, despite being objectively and visually powerful, being absolutely terrified of Lucilius and allowing himself to be lugged around like a sack of potatoes that I find deeply funny, what can I say.
> 
> Also, as a side note, I'm kind of assuming that at one point Olivia and Azazel both looked like "regular" archangels at one point (as in, sans the horns,) and that they went through some sort of transformation in Pandemonium. I dunno, I find the cannon confusing at best at times, but at least in this fic, neither of them start off with horns or Screamo outfits.
> 
> And thank you so much to everyone who's left kudos/comments, or even just read this far. You are all lovely <3 Please feel free to direct all screaming or check for updates at @666ofOne on Twitter.


	3. Chapter 3

He had _intended_ to keep his distance from his own creation — just as Lucilius had warned him to — but it was difficult when every single inch of Sandalphon's form, from the wild sweep of his hair to the gentle taper of his slender fingers, had begun as a hymn of adoration to all the parts of the skydweller's world that Lucifer loved so much.

 

In a dry, warm part of the skies, he had found an island with prairies full of a flower they called 'Sandall': a small, white blossom that emitted a sweet scent, with roots that stretched much deeper and stronger than it's diminutive size would have let on. The root was pleasant to the taste and lightly psychoactive, and the elders of the village would steep it in a tea for both rituals, and as a means to ease the pain of the sick and dying. The visions it produced were pleasant, and the townspeople believed that the plant opened one's heart to the spirits of their ancestors, allowing them to gently guide the dying into the afterlife in the warmth of their arms, and Lucifer had thought that this was beautiful. 'Phonos' was the word for 'brother' on the island, and Lucifer decided in that moment to call his creation 'Sandalphon' — the brother of immortal rest — and he had thought that was beautiful, too.

 

In another strange, remote part of the skies, he had found an island that naturally rose and sank through the clouds, and had four distinct seasons because of it. As it lowered, the island would become warmer, brightly colored flowers that dripped with nectar and bore enormous fruit blooming from every nook and cranny, vibrant and lovely and a symbol of life that the townspeople worshipped for their bounty. And as it rose, the vegetation of the island would burst from vivid green, to all the colors of the sunset: reds and oranges and yellows, turning the whole island on fire in a beautiful display of joyous death. And the townspeople worshipped that, too, admiring the inevitability of death as they gathered the bright, reddish brown leaves of a certain tree — the color of blood, the color of fire — and used them to make wreathes they hung on their doors as the days grew colder. Lucifer chose this color for Sandalphon's eyes, earthy and rich, the beautiful, anguished color of mortality.

 

His mouth was shaped after the first painting created by mortal hands that had every left him breathless: a woman standing on the edge of a cliff, a joyous smile on her face as the wind whipped her clothing around her body. His hair was Lucifer's memory of a child taking their first ride on an airship, shrieking with laughter and hair going wild as the winds combed through it. His skin was the color of the sun at midday when it shined its brightest, and his hands were those of the first pianist who had moved Lucifer to tears with nothing more than the passion of their music; the first time that anything had ever caused him to weep at all, the sensation foreign and frightening and _beautiful._

 

Every single thing about Sandalphon was lovely — was designed to be, was meant to be everything exquisite and honest and haunting, the mortal world impossibly immortalized. Something that could be found on any island and yet unique in all the skies, and Lucifer had already loved him well before the last eyelash was set to his lid.

 

But no one, not even Lucifer, could have predicted what Sandalphon would do with all these things. Lucifer couldn't design who he _was_ , couldn't have known that Sandalphon would be mouthy, and clever, and stubborn, and inquisitive, and contrary, and _wonderful._ He could have never guessed the way that Sandalphon would stare at him, openly adoring and bravely steady in a way that no other angel dared. Like Sandalphon thought the sun rose and set from him.

 

Or that Lucifer would feel like his life began and ended with him, in return.

 

And now, on a sunny day so bright it almost hurts, Lucifer makes his way into the garden once more, eyes searching for a mass of arguably gangly limbs. He spots him almost immediately, the brown of Sandalphon's hair and clothing sticking out like a sore thumb against the brilliantly bright whites, greens, and blues of their surrounding, and Lucifer knows the moment Sandalphon notices his presence because he lets out an excited gasp that seems too-loud for the tranquil surroundings. The clumsy way he stumbles to his feet is entirely ill-befitting of an archangel, and Lucifer has never felt so soothed.

 

"Hey, you're finally back! Or- wait, I mean- uh, hello, Lucifer."

 

Lucifer smiles. "I'm home," he says, and he really means it.

 

\---

 

The first time he makes coffee for Sandalphon, he feels uncharacteristically nervous. He's never made it for anyone else before, and he thinks that maybe the flavor might be too bitter. But the roasted beans are the color of Sandalphon's hair, the flavor sharp yet grounding, and it feels like it's important to share it with him, somehow.

 

For a moment he's afraid he's made a mistake when Sandalphon takes the first sip and makes a quiet choking noise, Lucifer's breath catching in his throat without him even realizing it, but then Sandalphon looks up with a small smile that he finds he can't help but return.

 

"It's- wow, yeah, it's- it's really... It's good!" Sandalphon says, and Lucifer finally let's out the air in his lungs.

 

"Is it? I'm glad to hear it. This is the first time I've made coffee for another person."

 

Sandalphon takes another timid sip, then slowly sets the mug down on the table and idly brushes a stray drop of coffee off the rim. "Would you... would it be too much trouble to make it for me again, sometime?" He finally asks after several long moments, and Lucifer's chest swells.

 

"I'd love to." And he means it again.

 

\---

 

"Well go on, try it!"

 

Sandalphon is perched on the edge of his chair, hands clenched in nervous fists and braced on his knees, watching Lucifer so closely that he almost feels uneasy as he carefully brings the edge of the cup to his lips.

 

" _AndI'msorryIusedyourbeanswithoutasking,_ " Sandalphon rushes out all at once, anxiously leaning even closer over the table. "I just wanted to try to make something for you, I hope you aren't angry... I- I hope it isn't awful."

 

And _stars above_ but it really is terrible, the water clearly too hot and the grounds brewed for too short, the liquid both burnt tasting and viciously acidic in a way that almost makes Lucifer choke himself as he coughs. But Sandalphon looks so _earnest_ , and Lucifer makes himself take another long, careful sip, and smiles afterwards.

 

"It's wonderful," he says, and Sandalphon does that lovely _thing_ where he bites his lower lip to try to keep himself from smiling, but it only shines out from his eyes instead, the skin crinkling at the edges.

 

"Yeah?" Sandalphon breathes, and when Lucifer nods, his lip breaks free from his teeth at last in a wide grin he can't seem to hold back anymore, shoulders slumping with relief.

 

"It's the best thing anyone has ever made for me," Lucifer says, and he means that, too.

 

\---

 

"You're leaving again? But you just got here!" Sandalphon says, a distressed frown tugging at his lips, and Lucifer brushes a strand of hair behind his ear.

 

It stays tucked for all of three seconds before falling straight back into his eyes, and Lucifer has never felt so fond.

 

"I'll be back soon, I promise. I'm just going out for a bit."

 

Sandalphon turns his face into the fingertips Lucifer still has hovering at his jaw, soft lips brushing over them, and Lucifer wonders if the tightness in his chest might really be him dying after all, immortality be damned. He curls his fingers under Sandalphon's chin and gently presses his thumb against his lower lip to keep himself from sinking his hands deep into his wild brown hair, but that only makes everything worse because Sandalphon _gasps,_ shaky and shivery as his eyes flutter shut and his face tilts up, breath humid against the pad of Lucifer's thumb. When he opens his eyes again, his pupils are blown out and nearly hiding the deep red of his eyes entirely, and Lucifer feels his heart suddenly lurch back to life as fire seems to burn him to ash from the inside-out.

 

He drops his hand, taking a step back, and Sandalphon blinks, face flushing red and hand moving to rub nervously at the side of his neck. For a moment Lucifer thinks that he's upset, but then he just smiles as he always does, glancing at Lucifer from under his lashes a little sheepishly, and says, "Alright then. I'll be waiting."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah don't expect any sort of tonal consistency from me, because I'm Really Really Bad at it.
> 
> Thank you for reading. <3 Holla at'cha girl at @666ofOne on Twitter if you feel so inclined!


	4. Chapter 4

"Sometimes I think Lucilius _hates_ me."

 

Olivia has her back resting against one of the trees in the lab garden, Sandalphon's head leaning against one thigh as she mindlessly combs her fingers through his messy hair.

 

Azazel always liked to tease him for it, calling him a 'dirty mop' at every opportunity, but Olivia thinks his hair is absolutely lovely: shiny and soft, just long enough to add a couple pretty braids to it when she can convince him to stay still long enough.

 

"He doesn't hate you, Sandalphon," Olivia murmurs quietly, twining a strand around her finger as she rolls her head to the side and looks down at him.

 

Sandalphon scoffs. "Yeah, maybe you're right. Only because I don't think he has enough of a personality to be _capable_ of hating something."

 

"Hey, now," Olivia chides gently in response, even as a slight smile tugs at her lips, "you shouldn't say things like that. Naughty boys get used for spare parts, you know." Sandalphon seemingly can't help but give an unwilling laugh at that, the reference to Lucilius' favorite (and, so far, empty) threat easing the tension if only just for a moment. A short silence stretches between them, Olivia idly adding a braid to the hair at his temple, before she quietly asks, "why do you think he hates you?"

 

"Oh, I dunno," Sandalphon dodges with a sigh and a vague gesture with his hand. He turns his face away from her, the braid slipping from her fingers and falling loose almost immediately, and Olivia rests her hands against the grass instead. She can tell he's chewing on his lip from the way his jaw flexes, and she gently taps against the side of his face in an unspoken reminder to _leave his poor lip alone,_ and Sandalphon releases it with a huff of breath. "It's just — everyone seems to have some sort of _purpose_ except for me. You have your whole 'Queen of the Darkness' thing going on-" Olivia rolls her eyes when she's sure Sandalphon won't see, "-and Azazel is off on his classified, super secret mission to bring justice to the skies-"

 

"Wait, is that what he told you?" Olivia can't help but interrupt, and Sandalphon finally turns his head back to look at her.

 

"Yeah, he said it was so important that he couldn't tell me, but that he was going to be a part of the dawning of a New Age of Justice or... something."

 

Olivia openly rolls her eyes this time. "Sandalphon, he's one of the keepers of the knowledge of weaponry. I think there are even blacksmiths on some islands who worship him." She looks off to the distance for a moment, eyes unfocusing as she thinks. "Oh, cosmetics too, I'm pretty sure."

 

Sandalphon pauses, staring at her. "Sorry, what?"

 

"Yeah. Why do you think he always has his face all made up?"

 

"I just thought he was pretty and kind of vain."

 

Olivia smiles, moving to twine his hair between her fingers again. "Yes, well, I suppose one might be designed to be a little bit vain if they're intended to guard the knowledge of makeup."

 

"But that's what I _mean,_ " Sandalphon bursts out suddenly, head jostling as he makes an impassioned motion with his hands, "Azazel is out there protecting, like, daggers and face powder, and I'm just _here. All the time._ And any time I try to ask Lucilius, he's just like-" Sandalphon twists his face into a grimace, throwing his voice down to a deep, cartoonish pitch, "'that isn't necessary for you to know yet, _vermin,_ now go fetch me Lucifer or Belial or anyone who isn't you.'"

 

"He does _not_ call you vermin."

 

" _He might as well!_ " Sandalphon shouts, voice raising in pitch until Olivia shushes him gently.

 

She looks down at him, his red eyes staring up at her imploringly, and moves to brush her knuckles against his cheek. "Does it really bother you so deeply?" She asks after a pause, and he glances away again.

 

"I mean... _yeah_. I just feel like... I'm always here in the gardens, waiting for the next angel who stops by to feel sorry enough for me to pretend to want to talk to me for a bit." He worries his lip for a moment, swallows, then quietly adds, "you and Azazel are never _here_ anymore."

 

His voice is soft and choked in a way that's incredibly telling despite his deep, steadying breaths, and Olivia feels her chest constrict. "Oh, Sandalphon, I'm so sorry."

 

"No, it's not _that,_ " Sandalphon insists shakily, discreetly swiping the back of his hand across his face before looking back up at her. "You _should_ be off fulfilling your purpose. That's the whole reason for our existence, right? Driven to fill a roll above all else." He pauses, but Olivia keeps her mouth shut, giving him time to collect his thoughts as he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.

 

"It's _horrible,_ " he finally whispers at last, eyes remaining tightly shut, "the constant desperation to _do_ something, but not knowing what it is. It feels like an itch I can't scratch, but so much worse. Sometimes when I'm alone in here, week after week, it gets so bad that I feel like I'm on fire. And I can't leave, because we aren't allowed out into the skies with our powers until we're tethered to a purpose." He opens his eyes. "I just don't understand why I'm the only one not given a role. Sometimes I wonder if it's because I'm just too useless to be trusted with anything. Even protecting lipstick."

 

Olivia exhales a single, soft laugh at that, Sandalphon offering a weak smile in return, as she tries to figure out what to say.

 

But she can't — she doesn't know what the answer is.

 

She rests her hand back on his cheek and gives him a sad, sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry. It's not very fair, is it."

 

And he doesn't say anything, but he does let out a soft exhale of breath, muscles sagging as though just the confirmation of empathy is — at least temporarily — enough.

 

After a long moment, Olivia gently jostles his head with her leg. "Hey, I think Lucilius just had Belial organize all his journals. Would you like to sneak in and put them in the wrong places again?"

 

Sandalphon huffs a laugh, then gives her a smile, weak as it is. "Absolutely."

 

\---

 

The door to her room bursting open doesn't quite make her jump, but her hand does reflexively tighten on one of the swords strapped to her waist before she realizes that it's just Sandalphon.

 

" _I KNEW it,_ " he cries out all in a rush, cheeks flushed a blotchy red and face distraught in a way that makes Olivia's heart sink, "I _knew_ I was useless. I _knew_ they were trapping me here for _nothing._ "

 

Olivia takes several steps forward, holding her arms out, and Sandalphon's shoulders go from tensed in anger, to slumping dejectedly like a child about to burst into tears. "What are you talking about? What happened?"

 

"I _heard_ them," Sandalphon chokes out, voice tight as he sags against her, "Lucifer and Lucilius. I _heard them say it._ " His shaky hands bump against the pommel of her sword as he moves to put his arms around her, and Olivia feels his whole body go tense as he suddenly jerks away. "Wait, are you leaving?"

 

Olivia reaches for him, but he flinches backwards. "I have to go back out," she says apologetically, still trying to get to him even as he continues to stumble away from her, eyes wide and face twisted in a way she doesn't recognize. "But I still have some time, we can-"

 

" _No._ It's fine. I'm fine. You go."

 

"Sandalphon, _please-_ " But he just shakes his head and spins on his heel, disappearing down the hallway as Olivia stares helplessly after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Azazel actually was a fallen angel who protected the knowledge of weaponry for men and cosmetics for women, because you know, THOSE TRICKSY WOMENFOLK DARING TO WEAR EYELINER OR WHATEVER. Terrifying.
> 
> Thank you for reading <3 Twitter is @666ofOne, but I do post a lot of dumb Final Fantasy jokes and it's a MESS right now with Ardyn fuckery, so I dunno, follow at your own risk I guess *FINGER GUNS*


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELP IT'S BELIAL'S CHAPTER SO WE'RE GONNA GET PRETTY GROSS FOR A MINUTE. Proceed with all the caution you would normally take when dealing with a manipulative, sexually charged asshole, u feel me?

Out of all the Fallen Angels at the lab, Belial had really thought that Sandalphon would be the hardest to convince to switch alliances. He and Lucifer were practically _gagging_ for one another, after all, and he had never seen anyone love anything the way that Sandalphon loved Lucifer.

 

It was just pure luck that when it came to matters of the heart, Lucifer — _perfect,_ wise, all-knowing Lucifer —was a confused, lost child.

 

He finds Sandalphon in the gardens with his hands gripping his hair so tight that the roots must be tearing, shoulders hunched as he paces wildly back and forth like a caged beast, and Belial can't help but smile.

 

"Oh my, what have we here?" Belial says, voice dripping honey but with a lethal intent, and Sandalphon spins to face him. "Why so upset? Your friends all leave you behind to go on their play-dates again?"

 

Sandalphon flinches so hard, and looks so _wounded,_ that Belial nearly feels guilty. Sandalphon had always been small and sweet, and Belial isn't sure he's ever had a single malicious thought about anything in his entire boring existence so far. But feelings of guilt only ever led to weakness, and Lucilius hadn't created him with the ability to feel anything that might risk making him weak.

 

"They're _always_ gone, nothing new there," Sandalphon responds bitterly, and Belial's eyebrows rise in surprise at the anger behind the words. He moves closer, half expecting Sandalphon to turn tail and bolt, yet pleasantly surprised when he chooses to stand his ground instead and glare at Belial uncertainly from underneath long, damp lashes.

 

He smirks, raising one hand to ghost his fingertips across a delicate cheekbone. "Oh, _sweetheart,_ " he murmurs, the consonants too sharp and vicious to truly sound gentle, "are you _crying?_ "

 

"No," Sandalphon says angrily, but he doesn't move his face away from the fingers gently stroking over his skin. In fact, Belial swears he can feel him unconsciously lean just a little closer into it. _Fascinating._ "I was just- you know, I- I dunno."

 

"Shh, it's alright," Belial soothes, moving both of his hands to cradle the back of Sandalphon's head as he leans down to brush a kiss against his temple, and Sandalphon actually lets him. Sandalphon always _hated_ when Belial would touch him. "I know how much you hate being alone." When he pulls back to smile down at him, Sandalphon is staring up at him with eyes so wide and so vulnerable that it makes Belial's heart start to pound, and he has to bite his lip to settle himself.

 

He stands straight again, sliding one arm to squeeze around Sandalphon's shoulders in a friendly gesture and giving his best approximation of a genuine smile. "You know, I've been having a few issues with the equipment in the training room. I think something is broken in one of the vents, but I'm too big to reach it. You're small enough to squeeze back there, so if you have some time, you'd be doing me a huge favor if you helped me out with it.

 

And Sandalphon, bless him, offers up the sweetest little smile.

 

"Really? You think I can help?"

 

Belial nods, and Sandalphon bites his lip.

 

"Yeah, okay. Of course," he breathes, and Belial gives his shoulders a friendly jostle before pulling him forward.

 

"I knew I could count on you."

 

\---

 

He makes sure to spend as much time as he can in the garden after that, asking Sandalphon for little favors here and there, and finds that Sandalphon just can't get enough of it. Even the smallest tasks have him beaming and almost tripping over himself, and Belial can't help but wonder where this version of Sandalphon was the first few decades of his existence when he seemed to live for being as obnoxious as possible to both him and Lucilius.

 

Amazing what feelings of abandonment could do to a creature.

 

Belial even gets Lucilius to be a little nicer to him — nicer, as in not actively grimacing every time Sandalphon came into view — and while Belial has to admit that he sort of misses constantly hearing crashes from the lab and the sight of Sandalphon running for his life away from an enraged Lucilius, it seems worth a little temporary boredom in return for future payoffs.

 

He makes sure to have Lucilius keep Lucifer far away from the labs, sending him on constant, long, useless tasks, and with every month that goes by, he can practically see Sandalphon deflate just a little bit more.

 

\---

 

"It's too bad Lucifer isn't here to share, huh?" he asks one day as he cuts open a fruit that he brought back from an island _"just for Sandalphon,"_ because _"he thought he might like it,"_ and Sandalphon's face crumples from its previous excitement. "I wonder why he hasn't wanted to come see you for so long; you always used to be his favorite."

 

Belial gives him a wide smile as he hands Sandalphon a slice, and when Sandalphon smiles back, his lip trembles.

 

\---

 

When Sandalphon shyly offers to make him coffee one day, Belial accepts with a grateful smile, taking the tiny cup like a gift from the gods. The liquid is nearly black and bitter like dark chocolate, burning his tongue and leaving a revolting aftertaste in its wake. Belial absolutely hates it and wants to tell Sandalphon if just to see his face fall, but he doesn't.

 

"It's incredible," he says instead. "Who knew our little Sandy had so many different talents hidden up his sleeve?" and Sandalphon shivers and flushes scarlet as though Belial had just dropped to his knees in front of him and begged to suck his cock.

 

 _Because of_ course _he would have a thing for praise._

 

Belial takes another slow mouthful, letting the flavors of mud and scum water and something revoltingly _common_ settle over his tongue, and lets out a contented sigh. "You know, I'd love it if we could spend time together like this more often. Would you make this for me again sometime next week?"

 

Liquid spills down his chin as Sandalphon jolts in surprise. " _Really?_ I mean, I can make it for you tomorrow if you like it so much. It's really not a big deal."

 

"Alright then, tomorrow," Belial says with a gentle smile, maintaining eye contact for just long enough to make Sandalphon begin to flush again before dropping his gaze to his mouth. He slides to his feet with a soft _"oh,"_ and reaches a hand out to drag his thumb slowly across Sandalphon's soft bottom lip, pressing just deep enough to run along his bottom teeth as he swipes up the wet trail of coffee.

 

He pauses when he reaches the center, looking back up into Sandalphon's confused eyes as he slowly pushes his thumb deeper, going until he can just feel the tip of Sandalphon's tongue brushing against the pad of his thumb, then pulls his hand away and sucks it into his own mouth. "Careless Sandalphon, always making a mess," he murmurs when he lowers it, dipping forward just slightly towards Sandalphon's upturned face, before standing straight and ruffling his soft brown hair. "See you tomorrow."

 

And he's pretty sure he doesn't imagine Sandalphon's soft, breathless, "okay seriously, what the _fuck,_ " when he thinks he's out of ear shot, but then again, it doesn't really seem like him to curse, so he can't be totally sure.

 

\---

 

"Lucifer was the one who taught you how to make coffee, right?" Belial asks casually the following day, the sun bright and beautiful above them. "I can't believe he just abandoned you here despite knowing how lonely you get. Poor thing... does it hurt?"

 

\---

 

By the time Lucilius is ready to put his plan into action, Belial is confident that he's got every single Fallen Angel on his side.

 

Sandalphon still seems hesitant, but Belial grips him gently by the shoulder.

 

"I know it's hard, but this is for the future safety of all of us. Lucifer is a _traitor —_ and he left you here, alone." Sandalphon lowers his head miserably in response, eyes falling shut, and Belial gives his shoulder an earnest shake until his dark red eyes peek open again. "Can I count on you?"

 

Sandalphon slumps, just slightly, and Belial smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things that Sandalphon used to do while stuck in the labs to try to keep himself entertained:
> 
> 1\. Taught himself an ancient language that he found in one of Lucilius' old tomes, just so he could fluently shout, "YOU'RE A COCKSUCKER" at Lucilius without him knowing what he was saying.
> 
> Lucilius already spoke this language fluently, knew exactly what Sandalphon was saying, and was Not Amused.
> 
> 2\. Organized all of Lucilius' books by the color of their covers, instead of by letter, because it "looked really pretty," but actually it was because he knew that it would make Lucilius want to scream.
> 
> 3\. Put googly eyes and pipe cleaner arms on every test tube in Lucilius' lab, and when confronted with it, only said: " _Sentient lab equipment?_ Science has gone _too far._ "
> 
> 4\. When introduced to Sariel for the first time, he immediately taught him Belial's "secret handshake" that involved violently high-fiving the other person right in front of their face.
> 
> No such handshake existed, and Sariel ended up slapping the absolute shit out of Belial.
> 
> Sandalphon laughed so hard that he threw up.
> 
> 5\. Learned how to perfectly imitate Lucilius' voice and, after stealing one of his robes, spent an entire week following him everywhere and repeating everything he said to people, but adding "peasant" to it.
> 
> 6\. Dedicated months to learning how to draw just so he could replace the portrait that Belial commissioned of himself with a caricature Sandalphon had made, featuring Belial making a crude gesture with both of his hands and devil horns on his head.
> 
> This one admittedly backfired though, because Belial ended up fucking loving it.
> 
> 7\. Moved all of Lucililus' lab equipment three inches to the left so that something felt "off," but Lucilius could never figure out what it was.
> 
> He ran into everything for a week before his muscle memory reset, at which point Sandalphon moved everything back to its original position, and the cycle began anew.
> 
> 8\. Somehow managed to steal an entire _bookshelf_ with Lucilius' journals, and left a ransom note made of cut-out letters on his desk saying, "YOU FEARED THE INTELLIGENCE YOU GAVE US AND CAST US ASIDE WHEN WE BECAME TOO SMART. IF YOU EVER WANT TO SEE YOUR NOTES AGAIN, YOU WILL BRING A SUITCASE FULL OF MORTAL COMIC BOOKS TO SANDALPHON'S ROOM AND LEAVE THEM AT HIS DOOR BY MIDNIGHT TONIGHT."
> 
> When Sandalphon was confronted with this one, he just looked up from the book he was reading with a distant, horrified expression and quietly whispered, "gods help us, they're back."


	6. Chapter 6

"What happened to you two?" Sandalphon breathes quietly in shock, wanting to reach out to run his hand along the cruel curve of one of the black horns twisting from Olivia's head, but not feeling comfortable enough to do so.

 

Maybe once, years ago, back when the three of them used to do everything and go everywhere together, he would have reached for her. But now they've all been separated for too long, and Sandalphon barely recognizes either of them anymore.

 

Azazel shrugs a shoulder, grinning wide, and Sandalphon's eyes are immediately drawn to the sharp fang hiding just behind his dark lips. "Lucilius. Said he came up with some sort of new serum for all the Fallen Angels to make them stronger. Did he not give it to you?"

 

Sandalphon looks between the two of them, stomach twisting uneasily. "No. He didn't mention anything to me." His gaze falls back to Olivia, and he wonders if her eyes have always been the color of dried blood, or if they used to be the color of warm honey. It's been so long that he just can't _remember._ "Did it hurt?"

 

"No," Olivia says, shaking her head with a small smile. "Well, not too much."

 

"Dude, it absolutely hurt like shit," Azazel cuts in suddenly, face twisting into a grimace. "It's probably a good thing that you got left out. I mean- Obviously it wasn't problem for beings as powerful as _us,_ but, you know... It might have been worse for you."

 

Sandalphon knows the words shouldn't sting — that Azazel is just being melodramatic as usual — but he still feels something hot and ugly beginning to twist in his stomach. He forces himself to laugh anyway. "Yeah, you're probably right."

 

There's an awkwardly long pause that stretches between them, the distant racket of Fallen Angels preparing for battle adding an uneasy backdrop, before Olivia finally moves one hand and places it against Sandalphon's cheek. "Are you nervous?"

 

He does his best to be discreet when he flinches, gently grasping her hand in his and pulling it away, but he still sees the look of hurt that flickers over her face. "No, not really. Belial seems pretty confident."

 

"Because I think it'll be okay," she insists further, stepping forward and grasping his hand tighter, "there are so many of us, and we have Lucilius' technology on our side-"

 

"I _said_ I'm not nervous," Sandalphon finally snaps, jerking his hand away from her and stepping backwards out of reach. Olivia's face falls, hands slowly lowering to her sides, and Sandalphon looks to the side guiltily. "Sorry, it's just- you don't have to do that. You don't have to keep trying to coddle me."

 

"I'm sorry," Olivia breathes out, and when Sandalphon chances a glance back up, Azazel is glaring at him from where he's standing behind her with a hand on her shoulder.

 

Sandalphon backs away, every fiber in his being suddenly screaming to be literally anywhere else. "I should go get ready. I'll see you guys... Later. Afterwards."

 

He doesn't look back when he leaves, but he assumes that the two of them must be looking at him like they hate him.

 

\---

 

The battle is over before it even really began. There were just too many of them, and they were just too strong, and all the serums and beasts and weapons at Lucilius' disposal weren't enough to turn the tide of battle against a swarm of Angels as thick as locusts.

 

They never had a chance, but Sandalphon continues fighting anyway, half distracted as he keeps his eyes towards the sky, watching — _waiting._ Trying to spot his brilliant white and purple wings against the cloudy grey skies, the beams of gold light that would herald Lucifer's arrival.

 

But he never comes. Even in the midst of war and rebellion, even with Lucilius having planned a literal _coup,_ Lucifer _still_ didn't consider them important enough to deal with. Still thought he was too good for them, that they weren't even worth his time. _He had abandoned them._

 

Sandalphon is starting to get sluggish and he knows it, anger making him clumsy and exhaustion slowing his movements, and he can barely bring himself to cry out when he finally feels a sword sink through his side. He groans, staggers, the blade falling free and blood surging up to fill the void, and when he looks up, he's surrounded. The angel in front of him points their blade at his throat, eyes cold and silently demanding surrender, but he shuts his eyes and surges with adrenaline as purple and blue fire swirl from underneath him.

 

The blades of energy around him roar so loud that for a moment, everything feels completely silent and still, the angels knocked away from him, and Sandalphon sinks to his knees as he looks to the sky once more.

 

_Lucifer HAD to come. He wouldn't just leave them —_

 

His focus drops, and the blades flicker and sizzle out around him pathetically, the temporary barrier dropped. Even as the angels close in around him once more, Sandalphon takes one more moment to search the heavens.

 

The spear puncturing through his lung doesn't hurt as much as he thought it would, and Sandalphon finds it in himself to stagger to his feet and stumble backwards, gasping for air and feeling dizzy. With one last surge of energy, he manages to focus just enough to materialize a single sword and slice a narrow opening through the hoard of angels surrounding him before it shatters out of existence.

 

Sandalphon turns and runs, and doesn't bother looking at the sky anymore.

 

\---

 

With the sky burning to red above him, Sandalphon leans against the outside wall of Lucilius' vast, sprawling lab, and grits his teeth. The wounds will regenerate eventually, but for now they _hurt,_ the blood soaking his clothing feeling hot and tacky, and the sharp smell leaving him nauseous in a way he couldn't have predicted until he was covered in it.

 

He closes his eyes and tries to find peace as he hears footsteps rushing towards him, but when a voice says, _"Sandalphon?"_ and he opens his eyes to see Olivia, he feels like he might cry.

 

"You're alive," she rushes out, hands hovering in front of him as though afraid to touch him, and Sandalphon does his best to smile instead of grimace.

 

"If you say so." He shifts to stand, leg giving out momentarily before unwillingly strengthening enough to hold his weight, and glances around. "Azazel?"

 

Olivia shakes her head. "I don't know, I can't find him."

 

Sandalphon nods, but doesn't speak, the words feeling foreign and hollow as they come to him. Something is screaming in the distance.

 

After a long pause, Sandalphon slowly brings his hands away from where they're still pressed against his wounds, swallowing back a groan as he tries to offer Olivia an apologetic smile. "Do you still have enough strength left to heal me? I, uh... I guess I slipped up a little."

 

"Oh, Sandalphon, I-" Olivia bites her lip, looking absolutely devastated. "I can't anymore. Whatever was in that serum that Lucilius injected us with completely changed our powers. I lost my healing, I'm sorry."

 

"It's okay," Sandalphon insists even as his voice shakes. "I'll live. Well- for now. Until they come back for us."

 

A tense silence passes for several beats, then Olivia gently grips his arm. "I think I saw an entrance to Lucilius' lab that was still open. Maybe we can find something to heal you faster in there. Come on."

 

Everything hurts and it just doesn't seem worth it, but Olivia's hands are insistent, and he forces himself to follow. 

 

\---

 

The ground begins rumbling the moment Sandalphon crosses the threshold of the building, and he stumbles as he tries to find footing on tiles that seem to be _writhing_ underneath him.

 

" _What's happening?_ " He tries to shout to Olivia over the deafening roar, slipping at last and falling backwards.

 

" _I don't know, the whole island is sinking!_ " He hears her shout back, though he's too shocked to look up. It isn't until he hears her sharp cry of, " _Look out!_ " that he finally raises his gaze just in time to see the side of the building begin to sag, and he stumbles to his feet.

 

Olivia is just outside the building, trying to make her way forward even as rock and metal collapse in front of her, and Sandalphon holds his hand out to stop her. " _Don't. Go find Azazel, I'll be fine!_ "

 

She looks like she's about to argue, taking a half step forward, but the earth surges underneath them once more, and debris crashes to the ground in front of them.

 

" _I swear I'll come back for you,_ " she shouts, though Sandalphon can barely see her, " _I promise we'll find a way to get you._ "

 

And Sandalphon means to tell her that he knows, and that he trusts her, still. But a steel beam comes tearing down to the ground with a deafening screech, the entire side of the building following down behind it, and Sandalphon is alone again, nothing but the ear-splitting noise of the earth tearing itself asunder around him as the world falls to darkness.

 

\---

 

"You _left_ me there. _All_ of you _left me._ "

 

It isn't fair. None of it is fucking _fair_. Hundreds of years of planning, of _deserved vindication,_ and in one single moment it was all _ruined._

 

And Lucifer still looks beautiful, and that hurts even more.

 

"I spent a thousand years in that _hell_ and all of you just _left_ me!"

 

"Two thousand, actually," a small voice pipes in, and Sandalphon whips his head around to see the fucking Singularity raising a hand up slightly. "I think it's been two thousand since the war. They said. Actually. So you were in there for two thousand years." He stares at her incredulously, and she rubs the back of her head. "Sorry to interrupt."

 

His biggest failure in life would be trying to throw her off of the island instead of just _slitting her pretty throat._

 

Sandalphon looks back to where Lucifer is watching him sadly, face tranquil yet intangibly devastated as a mirror to the look of wild-eyed fury on Sandalphon's own face.

 

" _Two thousand,_ then. I guess I lost track of time after the first few hundred years of _agony._ "

 

Lucifer shuts his eyes, head turning away, and pure, undistilled rage roars through Sandalphon's blood so violently that he can barely breathe. " _Say something,_ " he hears himself scream, "quit _ignoring_ me just because you think you're better than me!"

 

"Sandalphon, I'm sorry-"

 

" _No,_ " Sandalphon feels almost crazy, grabbing his hair so hard it hurts, "no more fucking apologies. I _waited_ for you. I always waited for you! My entire life, all I've ever done is _wait for you!_ " Lucifer doesn't speak, and Sandalphon violently shakes his own head. "Do you have any idea what I went through in there? How much pain I was in? How _frightened_ I was? And still I waited for you, thinking that _surely_ I would at least matter enough for you to come and put me out of my fucking misery. Yet I was never even good enough for that."

 

"That's not true," Lucifer finally says, voice sad and gentle in a way that makes Sandalphon impossibly angrier. "I've never thought of you as anything less than my equal, and the happiest moments I ever felt were with you in that garden."

 

"And yet you still _left me,_ didn't you? _Didn't you?_ "

 

Lucifer looks over his face slowly, shoulders slowly dropping just enough to make him almost look mortal and vulnerable instead of like the untouchable supreme primarch, and Sandalphon's whole body feels like an exposed nerve. "I never wanted to," Lucifer says softly after a long pause, looking into Sandalphon's eyes with such earnest intensity that it takes everything in his soul to not look away. "I would have given _anything_ to stay there with you."

 

" _Liar,_ " Sandalphon chokes out viciously, finally letting himself flinch away and cover his ears.

 

It isn't until he feels a soothing warmth begin trickling like honey through his body that Sandalphon realizes what's happening, and by then it's too late. He opens wild eyes to see Lucifer's arms outstretched and wings glowing bright, and he stumbles backwards even though he knows it won't help.

 

"No, _don't —_ "

 

The last thing he sees is Lucifer's face, lips forming the words _"take solace in my core, Sandalphon,"_ and he wants to scream because he _isn't fucking finished yet,_ but then the world goes to white and he can't feel anything anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i mean yeah i like using italics why do you ask
> 
> (As a quick note, I'm going the "Gran and Djeeta are twins" route, but Djeeta, specifically, is the singularity. Gran is still unfuckwithably strong, but Djeeta is the fabled blah blah whatever end of the world thing.
> 
> Also, Djeeta is an absolute hellraiser, and Gran is just along for the ride. One time she accidentally got him kidnapped by pirates on the Auguste Isles because she thought she could steal their treasure, but then she refused to take off the fake wooden leg and eyepatch during the swashbuckling, couldn't hit a single person because of it, and Gran was kidnapped in the ensuing chaos. Pray for Gran.)


	7. Chapter 7

Sandalphon doesn't cry when he awakens to find himself completely alone again in an outwardly idyllic and yet oppressively empty world.

 

The sun is warm and yet uncomfortably artificial feeling in it's continuity, the temperature never seeming to deviate, and its position in the sky never changing. There's always a cool breeze, but after some time spent exploring, he realizes that it feels almost as though it's on a long, constant loop — maddeningly repeating the same patterns against his skin and through his hair over and over again until the sensation of it makes him want to scream.

 

Houses are laid out perfectly, tables set and beds made, but not a single one shows any signs of living or even ever having been lived in at all: no shoes, nothing out of place, no dirty dishes, no dust. Just immaculate.

 

Every single thing in his new prison is horrifying, lifeless, and perfect.

 

Sandalphon does spend some time screaming after that — over and over again, voice dragging raw and rough with it's force, and yet seeming to disappear the moment it leaves his throat as though swallowed by the insidiously blissful surroundings. He screams for what could be minutes or hours or _years,_ the sun shining brightly down on him as not a single other living creature makes a sound, and he feels as the light breeze reaches the end of one cycle and begins to loop again.

 

He only stops screaming when his voice gives out with a sudden break, sinking to his knees in the middle of an untouched dirt road and shivering violently with his arms around himself despite the warmth of the air. His throat burns and his body shudders, but he still doesn't cry - just stares at a perfectly polished pebble in front of him and wonders if this world was meant to be Lucifer's way of showing him kindness, or if the supreme primarch was truly more cruel than Sandalphon had ever given him credit for.

 

\---

 

He doesn't cry when he turns around to see his first company in what paradoxically feels both like a single day, and a timeless millennia.

 

The sounds of their footfalls and voices seem nearly deafening in the oppressive silence, and for a moment, Sandalphon is almost afraid that he might not be able to use his voice anymore; but then he speaks a greeting to them, and he must still remember the language of mortals, because the girl with blue hair offers him an unsure little smile after he speaks and all of them nod in understanding.

 

It takes him a while to fully comprehend the conversation happening around him after he takes them back to the lifeless hut he decided to inhabit this week (month, year, century, _eternity,_ ) but he assumes — no, _knows_ — that they must be there to punish him further. Maybe not with fists or blades, but the wretched look of _pity_ on all of their faces is punishment all the same. It makes his skin crawl, jaw aching as he grits his teeth and drops his gaze away so he doesn't have to see it anymore.

 

Sandalphon doesn't need or want their pity. He'd accepted his punishment long ago — sometime after the fifth fit of screaming and tearing the interior of one of the cottages to pieces, but before the last episode of anxiously clutching his chest in terror and swearing that he couldn't breathe, he _couldn't breathe_ — and he'd stopped fighting it, stopped resenting it.

 

If it hurt, and if it felt like madness, it was only because he _deserved_ it to, and he'd accepted it. And yet—

 

_"You're lying."_

 

When the Girl in Blue suddenly cuts in with a frown on her face and fire in her eyes, Sandalphon feels something begin to pull taut inside of him. Something that makes him feel sick, like pulling up a bucket from the bottom of a long forgotten and long stagnant well.

 

_"Why are you lying, Sandalphon? You haven't actually repented at all!"_

 

And now it doesn't feel like she's punishing him, it feels as though she's _tormenting_ him: brutalizing him with her false empathy and torturing him with nothing but her gentle insistence. He isn't sure whether to laugh or scream when she even has the gall to say Lucifer's name—

 

 _"Come with us to save Lucifer! The difference between you shouldn't matter- he_ needs _you!"_

 

("Take solace in my core, Sandalphon.")

 

And it all just seems so fucking _rich_ coming from someone like her, who had already been given enough value to be something worth saving. Not like him. No one was coming for _him_ — no one had _ever come for him_ — not for the black sheep that used up its usefulness long before ever even making it to the slaughterhouse.

 

The thing pulled tight inside of him snaps, eons or seconds or decades of hopefulness disguised as anger rushing through him so fiercely that he nearly feels dizzy with it.

 

This time when he starts screaming, the world around him seems to roar back as the ground begins to shake and reality starts to bend, twist, and then shatter entirely. When the bright white fades, he realizes he can feel the cold stone of Canaan underneath him and actually hear the sound of his own rattling breath, every muscle and bone in his body screaming in agony as nerve endings flare back to life after being in stasis for so long, and Sandalphon grinds his spine against the floor just to feel the novelty of pain again for the first time in an eternity.

 

\---

 

He doesn't cry when his shapeless feeling of dread comes to a horrible crescendo as his eyes fall on Lucifer's head laying discarded on the floor.

 

The feeling is too deep and too sickening for his body to cry, his vision tunneling and the ground underneath his feet suddenly feeling as though it's tilting from his own unsteadiness.

 

Even as he shakily collapses to the ground and reaches out to Lucifer's head with trembling fingers, blood soaking through his clothing as he cradles him carefully against his chest, he can't find it in himself to cry. He just holds Lucifer close, eyes slipping shut and chest barely breathing as he strains to make out the whispered instructions floating through his mind.

 

He doesn't even make a sound when brilliant white wings suddenly materialize behind him, even though the weight of them — both physical and symbolic — _hurts_. They fall to the ground in fitful jerks and flutters as quickly as they form, collapsing heavily as his back strains to hold up wings that are too big for him. His chest aches with the knowledge of what they represent, and the muscles along his spine are screaming as they twist and shift to allow for the new additions, and yet all he can seem to focus on is wondering whether or not angels decompose like mortals.

 

If they do, should he bury Lucifer in the ground at Canaan? Maybe burn him and spread his ashes to the sky? But then, Sandalphon can't stand the thought of leaving him alone and cold in the dark ground, or burning him to dust with fire.

 

His thoughts begin fracturing further after that, breath catching painfully in his throat: If angels don't decompose, maybe he could bring Lucifer with him? The blood would be a problem, but surely he'd run out of it eventually, and then Sandalphon wouldn't have to hurt him by _burning_ him. Even if he bled forever, he could just keep a bucket under Lucifer's head and empty it once a day, and surely that was a better solution than burying him in the ground. What if he got scared? What if he couldn't breathe? What if he was _lonely?_

 

Sandalphon has no idea how long he sits there, with his thoughts becoming increasingly more chaotic and slipping through his fingers like water the harder he tries to focus, before the sound of rushing footfalls meet his ears. The room descends into chaos around him as the earth begins to rumble and the building collapses around them, but still he keeps his unfocused gaze on Lucifer, fingers idly stroking through his hair as though to soothe.

 

It isn't until arms wrap around his waist and lift him off the ground so abruptly that Lucifer's head slips through his fingers that Sandalphon makes any noise at all, a sharp shout leaving his lips as he twists his body and flings an arm out to try to grab him. It's too late though, the ground falling away as he's lifted away into the sky, and though he still doesn't cry as he loses sight of Lucifer's bloodstained hair, he swears he can physically feel his heart break in his chest.

 

\---

 

He doesn't cry when he rushes to confront Belial. Lucifer's wings are still too heavy, and the surge of new power rushing through him is overwhelming in a way that makes his skin feel like it might burst open, but he stays strong all through the fight — first with Belial, and then with Avatar.

 

He doesn't cry when the Singularity — Djeeta — extends her hands to him afterwards and asks him to stay with them, or when her brother claps a hand a little too enthusiastically on his shoulder and agrees wholeheartedly, as though Sandalphon hadn't personally flung his sister off an island in the past.

 

He doesn't cry from the undeserved kindness that Lyria shows him, or Vyrn's silly nicknames for him, or the way Djeeta makes it a point over the course of the next several months to try to coax him into spending time with the crew. Not from the dreams full of soft white hair and kind blue eyes, or the nightmares of sticky blood and hopelessness.

 

He still doesn't cry when Belial reveals himself once more and they make their way back to his first prison — Pandemonium. The sight of his fallen comrades twisted in agony into some sort of horrifying chimera leaves him sick and sweaty, but he doesn't cry; the entire world hangs in the balance, and Sandalphon doesn't have the time to process his grief even as a small voice wonders _what about Azazel and Olivia?_

 

Even when Lucilius comes back to life in a stolen body — _Lucifer's_ body, Sandalphon realizes with a nauseating jolt — Sandalphon doesn't cry. It seems viciously ironic that when Sandalphon finally gets his wish to feel Lucifer's hands touch him again, it's with someone else controlling his body and they're _hurting him,_ and he might have laughed if he wasn't so focused on not letting Lucilius punch his head off of his shoulders. As it is, Sandalphon just grits his teeth, prays to whichever god might be listening, and fights.

 

\---

 

Sandalphon _almost_ cries when he regains his consciousness after the battle to the sound of silverware tinkling against porcelain, and the gentle timbre of Lucifer's voice.

 

_"Have some coffee. It's been a long time since I could serve you one."_

 

Lucifer's face is warm and beautiful, and Sandalphon can't find any reproach or hatred in his eyes when he finally finds the courage to nervously meet his gaze. There's a softness there that makes Sandalphon's heart lurch into his throat despite not fully understanding it, and it makes him want to collapse onto his knees in front of Lucifer and cry into his lap for forgiveness. He wants to feel Lucifer's fingers comb the hair away from his face and soothe hands across his cheeks, wants him to take back his heavy wings and then wrap them all around them both in a warm cocoon until the world fades away completely.

 

He _wants_ to press his face against Lucifer's neck and then cry and cry until the millennia of hurt and bitterness is wrung out of him, until nothing remains but a soothing ache in his chest and the weightless relief of nothingness.

 

But he doesn't. Lucifer is still looking at him with that strange, gentle expression that Sandalphon can't quite place, but that he knows he wants to be worthy of. So when the echoing voices of Lyria and Vyrn pierce their way into the peaceful surroundings, Sandalphon forces himself to step backwards, even as every fiber in his being is screaming at him to move closer to the one person he loves more than anything else.

 

His throat feels tight with the weight of everything he still wants to say, and he means to say _I love you,_ but instead he says, "I'm going out for a bit," and the smile that Lucifer gives him is both so sad and so proud that Sandalphon can feel it in his very bones.

 

_"Now you're the supreme primarch, and I'll be the one to await your return."_

 

And the words are so sweet, but so _cruel,_ because Sandalphon wouldn't wish that fate on anyone. It's all so heartbreakingly unfair, that someone with all the expansive goodness of a universe is the one waiting behind in a dressed up prison, while Sandalphon gets to turn on his heel and fly away with wings that don't belong to him.

 

He does his best not to show it, though, and with one final, _"I'm going out for a bit,"_ he leaves Lucifer behind, making sure to not look back after he turns away in case his resolve finally fails him.

 

\---

 

The morning sun is bright and warm despite the chill that still lingers in the air, and Sandalphon doesn't bother to force away the small, contented smile that tugs at his mouth as he sits on the railing of the Grandcypher and looks out across the expanse of sky.

 

Although he'd thought it was silly at the time, the miniature cafe that Lyria had put together for him on the ship was turning out to be incredibly popular with the entire crew, and there was something he found soothing about the repetitive, mundane task of brewing up drinks all morning. Sure, Djeeta had jumped on one of the nearby tables partway through and — with coffee sloshing in her overly expressive hands — managed to rally half the crew into a harebrained scheme to overthrow the corrupt government head of a nearby island before the sun had even finished rising, but really, that was just an average Tuesday.

 

It isn't until he catches a glimpse of distinctive leather armor and pale golden hair shining in the sunlight that the peace of his morning is finally shattered, and Sandalphon jolts so hard in his seat that he nearly falls off the railing as he whips his head around, eyes wild, to look.

 

He almost can't believe it, but then... there he is, skin looking oddly radiant in the sunlight and face so effortlessly beautiful that it makes Sandalphon's heart hurt just to look at him.

 

Seeing Lucifer with the wind in his hair takes Sandalphon's breath away, the absurdity of watching him do something as ordinary as pin damp clothing to a clothesline doing nothing to lessen the sensation of awe that rushes through him. Looking at Lucifer is somewhat like looking straight into the sun, and Sandalphon feels like a hand is clutching hot at his throat even as anxious relief floods through him, staggering forward on legs that feel oddly like jelly.

 

"Lucifer," Sandalphon breathes as he approaches incredulously, heart hammering fast and relentless against his ribs. And it seems a little strange when Lucifer turns his head with only a polite smile, but the absurdity of _all_ of it leaves him unable to think logically about anything. "You're okay." He stumbles closer like a newborn horse on colt legs, eyes wide with hopeful disbelief as he stares at the man in front of him.

 

He's about to lift his hand out — almost in arms reach and the floodgates of relief just beginning to burst open — when something tugs alarmingly at the back of his mind and he yanks his hand away as though burnt.

 

Everything looks... _wrong._ Up close, the hair that had looked like Lucifer's silvery blonde appears more like a pale yellow, and the eyes that gaze politely back at him are _violet,_ not Lucifer's deep blue. The man in front of him is looking at him like Sandalphon a stranger, with none of the tranquil affection that Lucifer used to practically overflow with every time his gaze used to settle on him, and Sandalphon suddenly feels like he's been doused in ice water.

 

"Who the fuck are _you?_ " He forces out once he can find the words, voice choked tight with fury. His hands are trembling at his sides, fingers aching and nails digging into his palms as he looks up into the face of deception.

 

The fraud offers him a blandly polite, if slightly confused, smile. "I'm Lucio," he says simply, pointing a finger to his own face. "You must be Sandy, right? I've heard a lot about you, but I hadn't gotten around to introducing myself - sorry about that."

 

'Lucio' extends a hand to him, but Sandalphon slaps it away with a snarl and takes another step backwards. "Why do you have his _face?_ "

 

First Lucilius stole Lucifer's body, now this _thing_ had stolen Lucifer's face, and it all seems so senselessly malicious at this point that Sandalphon can't even seem to breathe properly. Even if a brutal god somewhere far away was intent on seeing him punished for every single one of his sins, the never-ending relentless _cruelty_ of it seems almost impossible in its savagery. Surely nothing — not even a god with a grudge — could truly hate Sandalphon viciously enough to constantly torment him at every turn with horrible reminders of the only thing he'd ever truly wanted.

 

Lucio blinks at him with a perplexed expression of innocence, and Sandalphon wants to scream. "'His' face? Do I resemble someone you know?" And then he makes a lighthearted laugh, the sound grating against Sandalphon's nerves like shards of glass against an open wound. "It does happen, you know. They say everyone in the skies has at least three look-alikes."

 

" _I don't care!_ " Sandalphon feels hysterical. "That person is the _only_ one who matters to me, and you're standing in front of me wearing his _face._ "

 

The friendly smile slowly begins to slip from Lucio's lips, replaced with something that looks revoltingly like pity as his expression goes sad. He doesn't respond for several long, agonizing moments, violet eyes taking in Sandalphon's heaving chest and twisted face, then finally shakes his head. "You truly care for him, don't you? Your Lucifer is a lucky guy."

 

The words blow straight through Sandalphon's chest and leave him feeling pulverized, razing him to ash from the inside out.

 

That someone would dare to describe _anything_ that had happened to Lucifer as 'lucky' — that he would _dare_ to say anything about Lucifer _at all_ — is finally too much.

 

Sandalphon opens his mouth to tell 'Lucio' to shove his ‘luck' up his ass — or maybe to just go fuck himself — but to his absolute horror, he instead feels his throat clench and chest begin hitching tellingly as his words twist into an ugly, high-pitched whimper. He cuts himself off with a choked noise, feeling the sting behind his eyes and the rushing in his ears, then spins on his heel and bolts like a coward.

 

He doesn't stop running until he's slammed the door to his room shut behind him and dropped heavily onto the edge of the mattress, teeth chewing viciously at his lip as he stares at a random point of the floor in front of him.

 

It starts first with the blurring of his vision, his eyes feeling hot and painful, then moves to a strange itch in his nose that stings as it spreads. Sandalphon sniffs wetly, trying to breathe deep even as his chest hitches and eyebrows begin knitting together of their own volition, and for a long moment he feels caught on the horrible edge of an unknown precipice. Then, with a heave that shakes through his body from his stomach to his head, Sandalphon drops his face into his hands and finally cries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer: I made this tiny creature out of some leftover playdough and a bottle I found in your lab labeled "deep-seated insecurities."  
> Lucilius: cool  
> Lucifer: If anything ever happened to him, I would kill everyone in this room and then myself.  
> Lucilius: okay  
> Lucifer: Can he be the supreme primarch after I die?  
> Lucilius: sure
> 
> (Actual AN: i promise i won't get melodramatic again after this chapter LOLOL APRIL FOOLS yes i will. Probably.
> 
> And I think we all know what happens during WMTSB 1/2/3, right? I figured I'd skip the play-by-play because otherwise we will literally be here forever.
> 
> Also for some reason I've always had a mini-headcanon that Lucifer, Lucio, and Lucilius all look very slightly different, whether because of the environmental factors they developed in, or just the impossibility of making two creatures look exactly the same. Hence the... Different eye color/hair color thing.
> 
> And thank you to everyone who keeps leaving comments and kudos, you are all the actual cutest. <3 @666ofOne on Twitter if you want to slide into my DMs and scream with me. I am, in fact, fluent in Fandom Scream, and genuinely love getting yelled at by new friends.)


	8. Chapter 8

Three times Lucio had managed to make Sandalphon cry, and three times he had felt bewildered in a way that he hadn't ever experienced in eons of existence. It seemed impossible-- Sandalphon never seemed to show much of _any_ emotion most of the time (other than being constantly, relentlessly, unrepentantly acerbic,) let alone actually _crying,_ and yet somehow Lucio had managed to stumble his way into it on three separate occasions.

 

The first had been the day he met him. Sandalphon had seemed so _angry_ with him, an immediately vicious tornado that had nearly bowled him over despite the supreme primarch's smaller stature. He'd stormed away shortly after, both Gran and Djeeta offering Lucio apologetic smiles and reassurances that he'd come around, and Lucio had pushed it from his mind and continued his chores for the day.

 

It wasn't until hours later that Lucio had found him again, sitting hidden behind one of the crates on the deck of the ship with his fingers pressed tight over his eyes and obscuring most of his face. It was when he let out a wet sniff that Lucio realized he was crying, and Lucio had _wanted_ to ask what was wrong -- wanted to ease it instinctually, to bring peace to another creature in pain -- but a board creaked under his foot before he could speak, and Sandalphon's head had whipped up so fast that Lucio was almost surprised he didn't crack it straight through the wall behind him.

 

In a moment, Sandalphon had gotten to his feet and backed up, lip curling up into a sneer that took Lucio's breath away. 

 

"You-- FUCK you, stay away from me," was all Sandalphon said before spinning on his heel and stalking away, and Lucio had just gaped after him, too surprised to stop him.

 

_Sandalphon looked at him like he HATED him._

 

\---

 

The second time Lucio made him cry was weeks later. An uneasy peace had started to form between them -- in that now whenever Sandalphon saw him, he merely froze and tensed, mouth scowling, as opposed to immediately storming away in a flurry of slammed doors and stomping feet. It wasn't comfortable, exactly, but it was enough to allow Lucio to observe him, at least.

 

And oh, Lucio was so _fascinated_ by him. A young demi-god, all the rage of the oceans and clouds and hellfire somehow trapped into one improbable body, cracking at the edges and yet somehow all the stronger and beautiful because of it. A tiny sparrow with the strength of an eagle, who absolutely and without a doubt _despised_ Lucio for his face, instead of adoring him for it.

 

It was awful and wonderful and Lucio wanted to know him more than any other living being he'd crossed paths with, but instead he settled for observing the careful way Sandalphon tended to his coffee each morning.

 

Sometimes, if Lucio was quiet enough and Sandalphon was focused enough, he wouldn't even notice that Lucio was there at all over the den of the other skyfarers milling about. Then Lucio could watch the way his frown melted away, the furrow between his brows smoothing out as he carefully monitored the temperature of the water and timed the brew of the ground coffee beans. Watch the way his lips would unconsciously part, the fingers that always clenched into fists in Lucio's presence instead remaining gentle in their movements, and the way his whole body relaxed as he took the first sip once it was ready.

 

It seemed like his favorite thing in all the skies, something that brought him such _peace,_ and Lucio had only wanted to extend that peace to him personally when he'd woken up early one morning and attempted to brew the coffee himself. It had seemed like a good idea to offer a gift of sorts; to do _something_ to ease the hatred that Sandalphon apparently felt for him.

 

He hadn't expected Sandalphon to rip the mug out of his hands and smash it against the wall.

 

"You RUINED it," he had shouted before Lucio even had a chance to speak at all, looking so furious he could barely breathe. "You didn't even ask me and now you've WASTED it."

 

Lucio could see it happening before Sandalphon even seemed to realize, as the air left his lungs in one shuddering breath and the look of blind fury slowly morphed into shaking lips and tears clinging to his eyelashes. "It was such a _waste,_ " Sandalphon had finally forced out in a choked whisper, the tears running hot down his face even as he tried to blink them away, and Lucio still just watched in silent shock as Sandalphon had touched his fingertips to his face and seemed just as surprised to find his own tears there.

 

Sandalphon had glanced between his two hands, shock morphing back into snarling fury as he'd looked back to Lucio, and then in the blink of an eye he had stormed away again, leaving Lucio to stare after him without even getting a chance to apologize for whatever it was he'd done to make Sandalphon hate him so viciously.

 

\---

 

"Maybe you should just buy him new beans," Lyria had suggested after Lucio had asked her about it, smiling sympathetically at him. "That's what Vyrn and I did after we used them without asking!"

 

"Do you really think that would work? I think he might just really hate me," Lucio had said, feeling strange and unsettled: two feelings that he was not particularly familiar or comfortable with.

 

Lyria's face had turned contemplative as she hummed, lacing her fingers behind her back as she thought.

 

"You know, I used to think he hated me too, but he actually ended up really caring about me a lot, in his own way. I think having to care about people must still be really frightening for him, and he's used to having to fight when he's frightened. Maybe you scare him, and it makes him angry." 

 

"I scare him? But why would he be scared of me?"

 

"I don't know," Lyria offered him another small smile, sweet and perfect, and Lucio couldn't help but smile back, "maybe you should ask him over a cup of coffee. Oh, but don't try to make it yourself, this time."

 

\---

 

Lucio had never begged before, but as Sandalphon had moved to stampede out of his vicinity again, Lucio had actually thrown out his hand and gotten out a panicked, "PLEASE wait," and Sandalphon actually stopped. He hadn't turned back around, but he did turn his face slightly, and at least it was enough for Lucio to hold his shopping bag out to him.

 

"I bought you more coffee beans. I didn't know what type to get you, so I asked the vendor to give me the rarest type he had. I'm sorry, I never meant to make you angry." 

 

Sandalphon finally turned a little stiffly, robotically extending a hand for the bag, and Lucio had carefully placed it in his outstretched palm as though offering something very delicate to a menacing child prone to breaking their favorite toys.

 

And, as it turned out, not only would it be the first day for Lucio to beg, it would also be the first time to see Sandalphon laugh.

 

He'd opened up the package, squinting at the contents before cocking his head in confusion and shaking it a little, turning the package around in his hand to get a better look, before suddenly bursting out into laughter. Lucio startled at the noise, expecting just about any reaction _other_ than impromptu humor, but quirked his lips up in a confused smile all the same.

 

"Are they... Are they not right?" He asked, and Sandalphon shook his head and _finally_ looked up at Lucio without glaring, all thick lashes and flushed cheeks and frustrating and _amazing._

 

"No, it's just- you know these are rabbit droppings, right?" 

 

Lucio, as he so frequently found himself doing around his present company, gaped for a moment.

 

"But the vendor said they were special. It was the most expensive kind they had." 

 

"Yeah, well, the vendor was an asshole, and you're an absolute fool," Sandalphon had responded, and though the words were vicious, his tone was light and his lips still smiled, and Lucio strangely found that he didn't so much mind Sandalphon's harsh words when they were softened by something so sweet. "Rule number one of going to the market is you NEVER trust the vendor to tell you the truth about anything, and two is to never give away that you don't know what you're talking about. Trust me. But still," and Lucio had sworn his heart stopped for a moment when Sandalphon's smile softened further, looking at the bag in his hands like it was something special and not a literal bag of shit, "it was nice of you to try."

 

\---

 

The third time he made Sandalphon cry didn't come until much later. Not until Lucio had been given plenty of time to truly get to know him, and the tears had hurt all that much more because of it.

 

Sandalphon had still been skittish and aggressive, yet a little more open after the incident with the coffee, and -- after frequently being paired together on missions -- had slowly offered his timid smiles more and his biting words less. There was always a quip ready, and his compliments were often hidden under layers of sarcasm, but the sweetness was there once Lucio understood the language he communicated in.

 

And once he learned his language, Lucio suddenly learned _everything:_ That the supreme primarch grew queasy during air travel despite being able to fly himself, and that he was at his most dangerous when that sharp smirk split his face. He was uncouth, a little gangly, prone to rolling his eyes like a petulant teenager, and sometimes he tied his hair up and Lucio would stare at the back of his neck for what felt like hours. He was an absolute menace even by himself, but just the smallest bit of prodding from Djeeta would send the both of them off on an absolute whirlwind of bad ideas that often left the rest of the crew exhausted yet significantly richer, and the two of them laughing so hard that they nearly threw up. Lucio had once watched the two of them haggle with a merchant so efficiently and relentlessly that they talked the man into giving them an entire cart of apples for _free,_ before Gran stepped in and apologetically put an end to it.

 

Sandalphon was often impulsive, could be stubborn to a fault, was all thinly-veiled sarcasm and words as sharp as a knife, the exact _opposite_ of what the supreme primarch should probably be, and Lucio adored him to distraction.

 

So when Sandalphon handed him a delicate looking porcelain cup one morning, Lucio held out his hands to accept it like the gift that it was.

 

"It's just coffee, you don't have to be so..." Sandalphon had trailed off, smirking slightly, before waving his hand vaguely, "I dunno, WEIRD about it."

 

Lucio stared down at the mug, the liquid a dark, opaque caramel color. "Is it? It looks different than what you drink."

 

"Oh, right, that." Sandalphon flushed slightly, and Lucio was certain he had never been so utterly charmed in eons of existence before that moment, "I added a little cream and sugar to it. Only enough to enhance the natural flavors and lessen the bitterness a little, but I just... I got the feeling that you'd probably like it better that way."

 

"Did you? Lucio pressed, setting the cup temporarily aside on the table in front of him. "Why?"

 

And Sandalphon had done that _thing_ that he did all the time with his bottom lip, biting it between his teeth to hold back a smile, and jerked one shoulder up into a lazy shrug with a drawled, "dunno, that's just how you feel to me," and Lucio was done for.

 

He got to his feet fluidly, sliding the fingertips of one hand across Sandalphon's jaw, the other threading into the soft hair at the nape of his neck, and he swore he could see his pupils darken through the red of his irises in response. He was _so sure_ he didn't imagine the way Sandalphon tilted his head back of his own volition, eyelashes fluttering as Lucio had pressed his lips against his, gentle but insistent. He'd been positive that he could feel Sandalphon melt towards him for a moment, lips wind-chapped but perfect and his hands lifting to smooth against Lucio's ribs -- but then his fingers had fisted in Lucio's shirt and shoved him back hard enough that he stumbled, and Sandalphon had pressed the heel of his palm against his mouth as he stared up into Lucio's face as though he were suddenly nauseous.

 

For several long, drawn out seconds, Sandalphon had just _looked_ at him-- eyes slowly dragging across every inch of his face, down over his cheeks and across his lips and finally up to his eyes, and then to Lucio's absolute horror, he choked out a hoarse, " _don't,_ " and then burst into tears.

 

"Oh, uhh-" Lucio had started helpfully, but Sandalphon, predictably, only jumped to his feet so quickly that his chair clattered to the ground, and then he was gone with the door slamming shut behind him.

 

Remembering something Cagliostro had said several days ago that seemed to fit the current situation fairly well, Lucio chewed on his lip for several long, miserable moments before quietly muttering, " _fuck._ “

 

\---

 

Lucio finds him several hours later, sitting in his favorite spot with his legs dangling over the railing and arms crossed tight across his stomach. If he's surprised when Lucio climbs up to sit next to him, swinging his own legs over in a mirror of Sandalphon's position, he doesn't show it.

 

"I'm sorry," Lucio begins, not looking at him, the words feeling strange in his mouth. "I'm not sure that I've ever been very good at knowing how people feel. I've spent so much more time in my life speaking than I ever have listening, and sometimes I think it's kept me from being able to understand others." He glances to Sandalphon finally, though his wild brown hair shields his face from Lucio's view. There's a beat of silence as Lucio tries to figure out how to properly express the strange feeling of regret sitting heavy in his stomach, before insufficiently settling with a quiet, "I never intended to hurt you."

 

Sandalphon suddenly sits up from his hunched position and takes in a large breath, holding it for several seconds as he watches a passing cloud, then sighs it out all at once, dropping his arms to the banister under him as he deflates. "I know you didn't," he finally says simply, idly kicking one leg out and letting the heel hit against the wood of the ship with a dull click.

 

Silence stretches between them for long enough that Lucio begins to wonder if he should just leave Sandalphon with his apology and let him be, but then Sandalphon finally looks over at him with an unreadable expression on his face.

 

"It isn't really your fault, anyway," he says softly, tapping the heel of his shoe against the hull of the ship again. "Not really."

 

Lucio blinks. "I shouldn't have kissed you without asking first."

 

"No, you probably shouldn't have," Sandalphon agrees, then smiles weakly, shifting his gaze to look back out over the clouds lazily drifting through the air. "But I did kind of want you to."

 

"You did?" Lucio asks with a start, and Sandalphon laughs sheepishly.

 

"Yeah," he answer simply, foot still idly _tap, tap, tapping_ against the wood under them.

 

Lucio pauses for several long moments, still staring at Sandalphon's profile as he waits to see if he'll say anything else, but when he doesn't, quietly asks, "because I look like Lucifer?"

 

There's no jealousy or anger in his words or his heart, just a genuine curiosity, but Sandalphon still bites his lip guiltily and scrapes his nails over the palm of one glove. "I-... I'm not sure," he says, fingers tightening into a light fist as the tapping of his shoe increases in speed against the ship, "probably. Well- maybe? Fuck, I dunno." His leg finally stops kicking as he rocks forward nervously, arms moving to wrap around himself again with a long sigh. "It's confusing."

 

Lucio tilts his head, trying to understand and yet feeling woefully unprepared for processing this many layers of tangled emotions. "But I thought you hated me."

 

"I never _hated_ you. It just... hurts to look at you sometimes." Sandalphon's voice is carefully calm as he says it, and Lucio can't help but feel a pang of guilt in his chest. He thinks about the first time Sandalphon had laid eyes on him: first so hopeful, the warmth of the sun shining straight from his eyes; then, a moment later, looking so incredibly _wounded,_ staring up into Lucio's face with the most bitter expression of both betrayal and anger. After a long pause, Sandalphon quietly adds, "you don't look _that_ much like him, anyway."

 

"No?"

 

"Mm-mm," Sandalphon hums, shaking his head. "Your eyes are the wrong color, for one thing. And you have a freckle under your lip, here-" Sandalphon points to the side of his own mouth, "-and half the time you have this, like, dumb bewildered look on your face that Lucifer never had."

 

Lucio laughs at that, and is relieved to catch a glimpse of a small smile on Sandalphon's face in response. "Do I? I never realized." He lets them lapse into silence again after that, the odd, nauseating tension in his stomach easing up just the tiniest bit as they both gaze, unfocused, out at the sky in front of them. Then, with his voice as carefully casual as possible, asks, "what would you do to bring him back, if you could?"

 

"Anything," Sandalphon responds almost immediately, voice firm in its conviction despite how quiet it is, and Lucio looks back to him.

 

" _Anything?_ "

 

"Well, no. Not anything," Sandalphon concedes, face going thoughtful. "I wouldn't hurt anyone. I wouldn't destroy anything for him, and I wouldn't sacrifice another life for his. I nearly tore the whole world apart for him before, and doing that all over again kinda seems like the opposite of personal growth. I don't think I could ever forgive myself for being that selfish, you know? So I guess," he looks back to Lucio with a wry smile on his face, "if you really want to get picky with the details, I'd do _almost_ anything."

 

Lucio knows that there was a time when Sandalphon wouldn't have let anyone stand in his way -- not the singularity, not god, and certainly not Lucio. He hadn't been there, but he _knew:_ knew the fierceness with which Sandalphon pursued his goals, and the depth of his capability for both passion and cruelty. Not too long ago, Sandalphon might have said that he'd do anything, and really meant _anything,_ come hell or high water.

 

Now Sandalphon has the wings of six primarchs at his back and quite possibly the strength to truly bring about the end of the world if he really put his mind to it, and yet instead he brews coffee, throws up when the Grandcypher raises in altitude too quickly, and satisfies himself with memories of the one person he wants to be with so badly. Forces himself to stay in this plane of existence solely to bear the weight of a responsibility he never wanted, but that Lucifer trusted him with.

 

It's so emblematic of the divine guardian that Lucio needs him to be, that he can't help the tender expression that spreads across his face.

 

"Almost anything is still a lot," Lucio says quietly, voice gone warm and soft with fondness. "Lucifer really is a pretty lucky guy."

 

Sandalphon laughs quietly, though there's an odd note to it as he pauses. "Yeah, I mean... I dunno. He's dead, so..." and he trails off again.

 

And Lucio wants to give him all the secrets of the universe -- tell him that dying means nothing when it means your soul becomes _everything_ \-- but he doesn't. Instead he lets his eyes linger on Sandalphon's profile, from the sweep of his eyelashes, to his nose, down to where his teeth are chewing at his lip _again,_ and then tears his eyes away to look back to the skies as he quietly says, "yeah, I guess you're right."

 

\---

 

It had been an easy decision in the end, really: projecting his consciousness to the strange purgatory where the souls of the powerful collected when they weren't quite yet ready to move on was actually fairly simple, once he could find someplace safe to keep his mortal body, and while Lucio had never had much of an interest in meddling with Lucilius' creations in the past, he finds himself suddenly desperate to _know_ Lucifer.

 

He didn't have many things in his power that he could give Sandalphon, but at the very least, he could give him this.

 

Lucifer looks up from his spot at the table when Lucio ducks through the doorway of one of the nondescript cottages scattered across the grassy plains, eyes wide and startled as he jolts. Lucio just smiles at him, rapping his fingers against the door frame before stepping across the threshold. "Sorry to barge in, I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

 

Lucifer's face -- so like his own, and yet he can see what Sandalphon means because it's simultaneously so _different_ \-- remains frozen in shock for several long moments, eyebrows furrowed and lips parted. "Lucilius?" he finally asks, and Lucio can't help but laugh.

 

"Nope," he says, popping the 'p', "but close though! My name is Lucio."

 

Lucifer lets out a breath, then actually begins to laugh softly, and Lucio laughs with him because he _knows_ why it must seem so funny to him -- that he must assume yet another clone is wearing Lucilius' borrowed appearance.

 

"Another one, hm?" Lucifer asks, getting to his feet as Lucio makes his way closer to him through the room, and Lucio nods.

 

"Yes, I'm afraid so. Unfortunately it seems that our face is pretty popular."

 

"I see," Lucifer says, mirth still in his voice even as his pretty eyes narrow just slightly with wariness. "I hope you aren't after mine again, then. I'm not sure how far you'd get with it in this world, anyway.

 

Lucio laughs, shaking his head. "No, no, nothing like that," he assures him, still watching the subtle shifts in Lucifer's eyes. They're dark blue and endless, like the deepest part of the skies at midday, and Lucio thinks he understands why his violet ones might have been such a disappointment for Sandalphon to have looked into instead. "I'm here on behalf of the supreme primarch."

 

He watches the way Lucifer lets out a breath, face seeming to both fall and soften all at once. "Sandalphon..." He says the name like a benediction, and Lucio finds that he understands to the very depths of his soul. "Is he well?"

 

Lucio nods. "Yes. He's learned to forgive, but only those who deserve to be forgiven. He knows how to harness his strength, but also how to allow others to help him. He values life, including his own, above all else, and he bears the sins of his guilt, yet no longer allows it to control him. He's surrounded himself with people who care for him, and he's never lonely." Lucio pauses to think for a moment, then adds, "he and the Singularity are particularly close. In fact, I think they might both be wanted for light treason on three different islands already."

 

"I see." Lucifer's smile grows both proud yet longing, eyes unfocused and thoughtful as they drift down. He goes silent for several breaths, then quietly adds, "I couldn't ask for anything more. Well, perhaps without the treason, but..." and drifts off with a quiet chuckle, one that Lucio shares.

 

Lucio observes him with a thoughtful smile of his own on his face, taking in the subtle details of the fallen primarch. It's obvious, to him at least, that in trying to create a creature with the ability to watch in awe of the wonder of evolution and life itself, Lucilius may have accidentally created something better and stronger than both he and Lucio combined, and the tragic _resolution_ in Lucifer's face makes Lucio's heart stir with something that feels somewhere between pain and wonder.

 

"What would you give to see him again," Lucio asks quietly, and Lucifer raises his surprised blue eyes back to Lucio's face.

 

He pauses, then says, " _anything,_ " just as sure as Sandalphon had been when he'd been asked a similar question.

 

Lucio smiles. "Anything?"

 

There's a sudden keenness in Lucifer's eyes: an understanding, maybe, that the question is more a riddle with an answer than a true question. "No... not anything," he admits thoughtfully, gaze shifting passed Lucio's shoulder. "I wouldn't give up my autonomy. I wouldn't give up being free of my responsibilities as supreme primarch. I wouldn't go to him if it would only mean falling back into our same suffering." He pauses, then, a small, rueful smile on his face. "I'm not sure I was ever good at being the supreme primarch. I always thought it meant having to sacrifice my happiness and the happiness of those around me in order to fulfill my duties, but now I think... maybe that was always selfish and cowardly of me. Sandalphon's strength is his ability to shoulder that responsibility without allowing it to consume him, and if seeing him again would ever mean taking that away, then... this is where I would happily stay for the rest of eternity."

 

Lucio lets out a long breath that he didn't realize he was holding, feeling the warmth of a sun spread through him as he smiles. "Both of you really have grown," he says softly, then puts both his hands on Lucifer's shoulders and draws him close despite the faint noise of surprise that Lucifer makes. "You may do anything you wish with my body while you inhabit it, but please do not damage it."

 

"Your what?" Lucifer asks, looking alarmed, but Lucio smiles wider and shakes his head.

 

"I can't give you more than a week and a day. My powers are strong, but even I can't keep my soul unattached from my body forever. Use your time within it wisely."

 

Lucifer opens his mouth to speak, but Lucio pulls him closer and rests his forehead against his before he has a chance to say another word, and a flash of light explodes out from them the moment their skin connects. In a moment, Lucifer is gone, and Lucio's arms slowly fall back to his sides as stillness spreads through the room once more.

 

He takes a deep breath, then opens his eyes slowly and takes in his surroundings. Lucifer would have eight days to spend with Sandalphon, but time passed strangely in a place like purgatory, and Lucio would have quite a bit of time to waste as he waited.

 

He moves to the small cupboards at one end of the cottage.

 

_Maybe I'll finally learn how to make coffee._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sometimes have a hard time getting a read on Lucio's real personality, since his fate episodes are goofy but he himself seems super serious in them, but then in WMTSB3 it seems like he has more of a sense of humor? So I'm basically going with, "timeless, all-knowing, omniscient demi-god who has lived among mortals for long enough that he's begun making dad jokes and talks more casually. Also kind of seems like a dummy sometimes because mortals continually find ways to be surprising and unpredictable."
> 
> And if you notice some parallels with the Lucifer chapter, it's intentional. I guess Lucifaces falling tits over ass for Sandalphon must be a genetic thing YA FEEL ME? ;D
> 
> I'm still like completely overwhelmed by the feedback people are leaving here and on Twitter, I HAVE TRULY NEVER THRIVED LIKE THIS BEFORE. Thank you to everyone leaving comments/kudos/Twitter DMs, I LOVE IT. Scream with me about how weird the Lucio/Sandalphon interaction at the end of 000 was at @666ofOne (LIKE REALLY CYGAMES? YOU'RE GOING TO ACT LIKE SANDALPHON THINKING HE FINALLY FOUND LUCIFER AGAIN WAS A COMEDY BIT? ICE COLD.)


End file.
